The chaperone

Its oddly refreshing for me to see evidence that I do have time to do some pointless things, like put stickers on the dog and photograph it. Tamayo didn't want to be boxed in, he took that chaperone label right off.

He is a chaperone, though. He follows us around the house. Sometimes I stop quickly so he'll crash in to me, it never fails to amuse me. He always steps on the heels of my shoes, though and that makes me crazy. He gets nervous when he hears crying or yelling, and I'm afraid that our lifestyle has made him a basket case.

He doesn't like it when the girls and I are apart, and he can't watch us all at the same time. We're not apart very often or for very long, but this will change, and slowly has. H and S can play upstairs alone for short periods of time now- Mayo paces the stairs, or presses his head against the gate watching them. Then he'll come look at me like I've lost my mind. Do you KNOW they're upstairs? Do you KNOW what they're doing up there? He pokes his head in every picture, his nose in every corner.

He drives H crazy as he's always underfoot and in the way- she taught S to say "bad boy!" very early on, before S was saying much of anything. She always said it affectionately. Buh boi

He's a good boy, a good chaperone, and I'm right there with him not liking the girls out of my sight. I know I'll have some company when they venture out further.